What Binds Us
by bore-ealis
Summary: Like treading on thin ice, that string could break. But it didn't. A collection of fics about Mikasa and Eren. Ratings may vary.
1. What Binds Us

Title: What Binds Us

Ratings: Varies from T to M

Summary: Like treading on thin ice, that string could snap and break. But it doesn't.

Disclaimer: Hajime Isayama's

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><p>When Mikasa first moves into the Yaeger's household, she is just but nine. And nine is unfortunately, quite a number not so favorable at all. She shifts uncomfortably to her side as she stands in the corner of the small living room. She makes a mental note to remember the tiniest details the house has: the scent of gardenias coming from the dining room, the partly opened window by the sink, the creak of the wooden floorboard when she steps on it, the way Carla lectures Eren as she was kneeling before him, running her fingers through his boyish hair, then clutches his shoulders as her eyes dart him questioning yet motherly stares.<p>

"Eren," she seethes, her voice firm yet shaky. "Promise me you'll never do something like that ever again."

"Mom—"

"Eren!" her voice rises and for a moment, it makes Mikasa freeze. Carla's eyes cannot contain anymore and so she bursts into tears. "Why do you always have to be stubborn? Can't you just obey what your parents say?"

They are all like that for a moment; Mikasa standing uncomfortable before the two of them, Eren preventing his tongue to go loose, and Carla, bearing the weight mothers always carry with young and naughty boys. Grisha leaves the three of them and prepares the extra mattress and blankets to let.

Mikasa clutches the red put upon her neck; it is reassuring and safe. She feels its warmth encapsulating the whole of her, and Eren's smell overwhelming all her doubts.

She looks at Eren and he looks back at her. She feels red filling up the white in her face as Eren stares into her direction. She quickly diverts her stare to the floor instead.

"Mikasa," he whispers, as faint as a fairy's light kiss but to Mikasa, it was the clearest thing she has ever heard.

"Wh—what?" Carla leans in towards Eren so she could hear him.

"Mikasa." He clears his throat. "They were going to take her, they're monst—"

Carla cuts him by pulling him into an embrace; it is partly done because she loves her son very much, and partly because she wants to shove all the hate that blossomed from who-knows-where inside the young boy. "Well, they won't be taking her away, right?" she says through her sobs.

Carla pulls away from the hug and wipes off the tears from her face. Eren holds her hand and she smiles in response. She turns away from him and stands up from her current position. "And you, my dear," she faces Mikasa. "make yourself at home."

Mikasa's eyes hold the faintest stardust that is miles away from visible sight, but it burns and dances with hope. She breathes the dew of late summer rains, and cries as Eren holds her wrist and leads her home; _their_ home.

The moment she is washed off the stained blood and steps out of the bathroom, she cannot help but feel uncomfortable once more. She is stripped off of her pink pastel duster and loosely buttoned sweater. Eren lends her his clothes for the night.

"That will do," Carla says as she puts a finger under a chin as she studies the little girl. "We'll wash your clothes tomorrow then we'll be off to town to buy some fabrics. Do you know how to sew?"

"A little. My mom taught me a few stitches." She feels the texture of Eren's clothes make contact with her skin. She then lets her fingers reach the red scarf once more.

"I sew that one." Carla says, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Eren helped in stitching too. But he's just stubborn."

Mikasa looks up from her scarf to Carla.

"I know I've said this before, but make yourself at home, Mikasa. This is now your family."

She blushes at her remarks. For a split second, she is convinced that the world has abandoned her, that rocks are to be thrown at her and it would scar her skin and mark down through her bones, but now she is sheltered by all the love from a family she barely even knows.

"Thank you, Mrs. Yaeger."

* * *

><p>That night, they make sure that all the doors are securely locked, and all windows closed. They cannot afford another breakthrough from strangers.<p>

Grisha takes out their extra mattress, blankets and pillows. There are just two sleeping rooms in the house so both Mikasa and Eren should make do with Eren's room. Mikasa being someone new and still terror-stricken and not to mention a girl, gets to sleep on Eren's bed. Eren on the other hand, sleeps on the floor and helps Grisha setting up with his bed.

She settles herself on the bed and pulls the blanket over her. Eren is still shuffling underneath his covers as Grisha and Carla stand by the door.

"It's been a long night." Carla says as she holds a candle with one hand and the other one clutching the doorknob. "Sleep tight, you two."

The click of the doorknob is followed by a loud roguish yawn. "Hn, good night, Mikasa." He says through his yawns.

She closes her eyes for a few seconds, "Good night, Eren." They doze off to sleep.

A few hours later, Eren is awakened by soft whisper-like sobs. He rubs his eyes ruefully and sits himself up shifting his weight to his arms. "Mikasa?"

"Ahh," she brushes off the tears staining her face. She is clearly awake, and has been crying for quite some time. Hours, maybe? She pulls up her knees to her chest and hugs her, her fingers bury through her flesh. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I—I, uh, I'm just—"

"It's okay. That why Mom agreed we both sleep here. She said you might have nightmares."

"It's not nightmares." She mumbles.

He kicks off the blanket and stands up. It takes him quite some time for his eyes to adjust in the dark, but Mikasa is clear to him. She is frail and soft and weak at the moment. He sits at the corner of the bed and places a hand on his mouth as he yawns. "You have me." Is what he says. "You also have mom and dad. We're your new family. And this is your home. You can stop crying now."

She nods at what he says. Somehow, she stops crying when Eren tells her so. "Thank you."

He climbs and makes his way under the sheets. "Could you scoot over?"

She scoots over to the side and lets Eren adjust to his side of the bed. She lies back down on the bed with Eren.

"I still think it's unfair, you know, with you getting to sleep on my bed."

"I'll sleep down there, if you want."

"Nah, no need. We could just share."

Eren quickly falls asleep while Mikasa studies him despite in the dark. He is brown hair and green eyes and playful grins and raised voice and haughty stares and obnoxious remarks and grass stains and dirt-and-sweat-and-orange scents. Unconsciously, she places a soft hand through his chest and feels his heart. He is, she adds, a vibrant beating heart.

* * *

><p>"<em>There were three of them;" <em>that she is sure off.

There are three of them, three monsters who cut off the thinnest ropes she is tied upon. One, killed her dad, the other her mom, the other attempted to do the same to Eren.

What she sees are: blood and red smeared on the floor, on the men's hands, on her mother's sewing scissors, on her father's chest, on the crest of her mother's face. The three men bear eyes filled with malice and a lingering fear that is imprinted down in the very soul of her.

Then, as swift as the wind, she is knocked out off bare consciousness.

She awakes in a place she doesn't recognize. The men must have brought her there. At the moment, Mikasa is not too stupid to take note of obvious details; she cannot scream or shout for any help since the place is probably a remote area. She cannot run for her hands are bound behind her. She is just but a helpless girl who is in forlorn and pain.

"Look at her," says the man sitting by the table.

The other man approaches her and shoves her to her back with his feet. Her stomach screamed in pain but she is too pained herself, she cannot bring herself to react at all. "Pretty face, but she is all too young."

"Pervert," the first man seethes through his teeth. "She's an Oriental, and they are quite a price. We'll sell her off to the black market and let a pervert have her then we'll have sweet fortune."

"That sounds nice."

"Nice my ass." He scoffs. "You killed the woman; I said you are only allowed to kill the man. She's the one who would have cost the fortune. She's pure Oriental."

The man besides Mikasa chuckles nervously. "She is a beauty anyway." He leans down to study Mikasa's face intently. "She'll still do."

There is a knock on the door.

It happens all too fast for Mikasa to fully register what is happening. The boy standing before the door is all frightened and appeared what seemed cold then all of a sudden, he launches for the man and sticks a rusty knife through his chest. A few minutes later, he is hovering over the other man and repeatedly stabs on his torso. Blood drapes all over the place.

Mikasa thinks she has never seen too much blood in just one night.

He kneels beside her and cuts the rope that ties her hands. "You're Mikasa, right?"

She nods.

"I'm Eren. You know Dr. Yaeger? Well, he's my dad. He was supposed to pay you a visit for a check-up but he found your place a complete mess."

She rubs her wrists; there are marks left by the tight grip of the rope. "There were three of them."

"Wh – what?"

The door bursts open and a man stands before them, terror-stricken and somewhat stuck in his place by what he has seen.

"Wh—what have you done?" he whimpers. "Yo—you did this? You rascals." He breathes hard through his gritted teeth.

The man eyes the two of them then Eren looks back at the man. He has placed down the knife awhile ago after cutting. Eren quickly dives for it but the man was quicker than he is. He brings Eren up to the air, clutching him by the neck.

"You killed them!"

"Eren," Mikasa tests his name in her tongue, but her voice is raspy, inaudible even.

Eren's face scrunches at the pain; he tries to untangle the hands gripping his neck, but it is of no avail. "Fight," he says through limited air. "If you don't fight, you lose."

Mikasa thinks she has seen too much blood. But she doesn't know that there would be more blood splutters and it is because she has held a knife and a rueful boy tells him to fight.

* * *

><p>When Mikasa first has it, she thinks that she is sick. Putting aside the dreadful night, blood is associated with being sick, right? Or so she thinks.<p>

It is a late afternoon that day; Mikasa has been living with the Yaegers for almost a year. Carla asks her to wash the dishes as she pours out some berries in a bowl of cream. At the moment, Mikasa is not feeling well. She feels torn and twisted inside. Her appetite is just the same and the food doesn't taste funny or weird; it is just her insides not working well.

"Mikasa?" Carla looks down at her.

She looks back at her with unknowing eyes. "Yes, Mrs. Yaeger?"

"Are you okay? You look quite pail today."

She nods politely. "Yes, I'm fine."

Truth be told, she is not even the slightest to being fine. Whatever it is inside, it is killing her. She does not wish to bother Carla or any of them with her wimpy cries since she's already bothered their dear quiet lives. It is when she walks away from the sink to place the dishes in the rack does Carla know why Mikasa is not feeling well that day.

She walks near Mikasa and kneels down to be as tall as her size. She smiles dearly at Mikasa and holds her wrists. "I'll help you with that."

Mikasa looks at her and asks her through her grey pools what is happening.

"It is okay," Carla assures her. "It happens when little girls turn to ladies."

When she steps out of the bathroom, Mikasa is paler than she is before. It doesn't frighten or terrify her just as much as when she sees the blood smeared at the floorboard of her home when her parents are killed though. She just wonders and wonders: where does all the blood come from? She doesn't know if Carla is telling the truth of being a lady. She thinks it is a rather funny thing to say, considering that ladies and grown-ups know a lot of things while Mikasa knows not even less than half of the world and its truths.

Later that night, Mikasa does not share a bed with Eren. She is too scared of him seeing the blood has she tossed and turned too much. She is still too embarrassed with the whole thing, and she does not wish to be reminded of it. Eren on the other hand, is convinced that maybe Mikasa is now recovering from her nightmares; Carla is quite happy of the disposition the two of them are putting, thus making it easier for her to talk to the two of them about certain _things._

* * *

><p>She accidentally pricks her fingers with the needle. She sucks at the blood.<p>

Mikasa usually pricks her index fingers with a fine needle when her mother teaches her some stitching. Someday, she will do all the mending of her clothes, and knit some sweaters for when the weather is cold, and do some purl and cross and crochet stitching.

It feels the same with Carla; after all, she learns to consider her as a mother.

Sometimes, Mikasa thinks that Carla has done a lot compared to her own mother. She tries to shove the idea away; it is not her mother's fault, nor Carla's, nor hers.

It is Eren's parents who gave Mikasa the _talk._ Once in a while, during the course of their conversation, a light blush would creep to her cheeks. She tries to hide it by pulling the scarf up to her nose.

Of course, Carla does not fail to notice this. And she knows at that age, Mikasa is yet but a child, but she thinks that her son is whom she is thinking of.

"You love someone, and you trust him; with your everything and all." Grisha says.

Mikasa blushes more, and Carla can't help but smile at the thought. And as Mikasa blushes, she feels a thousand needles prickling her all over.

* * *

><p>"See you later, Eren," is what he hears in his dreams.<p>

In his dreams, there is the surge to fight and flickers of vengeance from humanity. But when it snaps, he is quickly in another dreamscape.

What he sees are constellation of black tamed hair all too short for a pretty girl-child like herself; it frames the corners of her face and her chin too nice, pink chapped lips that are slightly parted as words escape through her lips and small smiles playfully tugging at the corners, and red. Endless red.

"Are you alright?" Mikasa asks him, as he awakes from his dream.

His eyes flicker for a few moments. He shifts uncomfortably under the covers as he tries to understand what he has seen. "Hn, I think so." He rubs the nape of his neck as a small candle stands at a stool near the bed.

"How long was I out?"

"Hours. You slept all throughout the day."

He runs his hands through his stressed face. Surely he has not been sleeping that long. They are in the middle of the experimentation and he knows that he better brace himself for further interrogations from Hanji.

"Why aren't you still asleep? It's already late." Eren says, facing Mikasa as he manages to look outside the window.

"I just thought on looking up on you."

Eren scoffs at her remarks. It is just Mikasa being Mikasa. Sometimes, he just wants Mikasa to stop tailing her, maybe find her own pace. But then again, without even fully acknowledging it at all, he does not want that idea, so he shoves it from his mind unconsciously.

He looks at her; she is fiddling at the loose hem of the scarf that is warmly wrapped around her neck. Then he is reminded of the dream; the scarf. He looks at her hair. It is short, like her hair in his dream. He closes his eyes and tries to remember what it was back then. Mikasa back then is of pink dress and warm sweater and sweet little daughter-like and kisses of sweet rainwater and gardenia scent.

He sighs heavily.

"Eren?"

"Hm?" he raises an eyebrow.

"What are you thinking?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing. It's just—" he hesitates.

"What?"

"Nothing." He repeats.

Eren is not sure if he will tell Hanji or Levi or even Armin or Mikasa of the dreams with her in it. He has been passing through weird dreams, and perhaps, these might be the memories his father is referring to; the memories that are somehow forgotten as the syringe sinks deep to Eren's skin. But it is inevitable.

* * *

><p>They are skin to bare skin and hearts against beating hearts. His teeth dig in deep through her moon-kissed skin and she leaves him a nervous trail of kisses. She kisses away everything she is afraid to put into words; so does he. She can hear his heavy breaths clouding her as he hovers on top of her. Mikasa stares at his teal eyes and cups his face and draws it near hers.<p>

She kisses him, and he kisses her back. The warmth of her body brushes against his, and it is enough to make him breathe so fast. She swears that through the kisses they give and the contacts made, there are soft whimpers and cries that secretly escape from his lips. She breaks apart, not for air, but for words.

"I love you," is what she says.

Eren does not say anything. He isn't surprised or disappointed though. He pulls up from atop of her, and she sits up.

It hurts, Mikasa thinks. She casts her net on a hope-filled sea, only to her dismay that all of it slips off through the holes it bear. But she does not tell him that. She claims that she loves him, and she says it because he needs to hear it so.

They are like that for a moment. Not moving, nor touching. Both of them reaches out for the other, and yet they are a universe and eternally apart. She holds back the tears, but it slowly paints her face and makes the already pale canvass duller.

"Someday," he whispers. "we'll have it. We'll have a home, and I'll be able to stay with you. I promised you that, remember?"

Mikasa does not respond. It is an occasion so rare to hear Eren speak of his promises; he does not need to speak of it again. He means it, no matter what. He lies back down on the bed and pulls her back under the covers. Tiny whimpers escape her rough lips, and he tucks her beneath his chin as he holds her near through her waist. She places a hand on his chest, something she does out of habit that started when they are still but children. She does it to assure her that he is alive. He is with her, he is of mirth and deprived laughs, of gossamer thoughts, of boyish grins and mother's worries, of snipped and stitched, teeth and bones and everything in between. He is Eren and she holds him dearer than anything else, more than her own life; he is after all, her life.

He holds up her chin and kisses her. "I'm sorry," he whispers then kisses the crown of her head. "But everything is out of place right now."

She nods. "I know."

Before she dozes off to sleep, there are a few tears that race down her eyelids.

* * *

><p>First, Armin takes off his shoes and stands before the shoreline. They watch behind him, as the water runs through his toes and how it tickles the sole of his feet.<p>

He starts chuckling and kicking and the water starts splashing around. "What are you two waiting for?" he calls out. "The water's fine!"

Armin leans down and cups a handful of seawater and sprinkles it in the air.

They eagerly approach the shoreline and look at the sea; it is far beyond that what they know. It is the promise that was once seen as unreachable to them, but they have reached it. And all they need to do is to grasp it harder and draw it nearer to their hearts.

What Armin has described back then, and what he has shown them in his picture books are far too different than what it really looks like. The sea is abundant and interminable, like the universe itself with a thousand clusters of lost stars. It has millions of shades and hues of blues and greens and all the colors combined. It reflects the skies above as it, with grace, ebbs and flows through the wind.

Eren looks at Mikasa; she is looking at the horizon and she seems amazed by how it seems endless. She still plays at the runs on the hem of her scarf. He laces his fingers through her hands and it awakes her for a while. "Hey," he offers her a small smile.

She smiles back at him and squeezes his hand. "It's lovely." She whispers.

"I know." Eren places a soft kiss on her forehead and he encircles her with an embrace. He unwraps the scarf from her neck then adjusts it securely. _This is what binds us together._

"Thank you, Eren," she cups his face and he feels her soft breath tingling through his neck. "for everything."

He dips his head and kisses her with all she ever needs to know. He spills all and everything, the world and the seas.

"What are you guys doing? Come on!" Armin shouts at them.

"Look who's jealous!" Eren teases as he pulls Mikasa toward the sea.

"You can kiss each other for as long as you want, just don't waste this moment. We've been longing for this ever since!" Armin smirks back at them, making Mikasa's face burn bright red.

She feels tingles running down her spine as the sea clutches on her feet then up to her ankles, then through her calf.

They splash and kick and pull each other down; they were sea-soaked and of gasps and chuckles and roguish laughs. The three of them remain like that for the rest of the day, soaking under the sun like they have never seen something as abundant as the sea before.

A/N: Fuck present tense; I'm so not used to it. Omfg, that's a first. I don't really upload fanfics, and this is the first time, though I've written some before. Is it that trashy, with all the exploration on sexuality and depictions on their relationships? Gosh, I'm so conscious right now.


	2. Walls

Title: Walls

Summary: Mikasa clings, earns, longs and reaches out to him.

A/N: Originally posted in tumblr.

So um, I planned to urgh, I dunno, commit my life to SnK fandom. The results are evident. I also converted this story as a collection of oneshots and everything in between.

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><p>Mikasa clings and earns and longs reaches out to him. To her, Eren was the brightest among the thousand-mass stars and she feels as if she was the dullest breath of air. No matter how many times she attempts to be heard or seen, it is useless. And in the end, all she ever does, when she is convinced that no matter how close they are to each other and still worlds apart, she just clings and earns longs and reaches out to him through the worn out red scarf.<p>

It is an inevitable state to see Eren in everything beautiful. He simply is life. It is already inflicted through her demented mind, and her poorly crushed aching heart, and her scarred calloused hands that tense whenever it brushes against the warm flesh of Eren. It is carved, and when it is, it immerses through and within and beyond every part of Mikasa.

Sometimes, Mikasa thinks he is simply just elusive; he builds up walls taller than what is created for the grim humanity that borders against those titans. She thinks he delves in his ghosts and she tries and tries and tries to be understanding, but then again, she has her own broken penchants of ghosts and rocks and bones that still lingers behind her. Her chalked eyes and her breaths with the voice of the dull moon bite her, hard to the rivers in her soul, and all she does is nuzzle the red scarf around her neck.

"What is it?" he asks, one night. They are chopping some woods outside their temporary barracks. The newly formed squad of Levi just moved in the small cabin, and their task for the night is to pick up some firewood.

She shoots him a hesitant stare and shakes her head. "It's nothing," she sighs.

Eren collects the pile of long chopped woods and places it to the base of a tree near him. "You know you should get back and rest." He said, as he leans forward to grab more firewood. "You're not yet fully healed."

She doesn't say anything. She just sighs and closes her eyes. Mikasa tries to help Eren collect the firewood; Eren is right though. She isn't fully healed yet. Her leg still aches whenever weight is put upon it. She just bites her lower lip and tries to hide the pain from him.

He quickly goes to Mikasa's aid and drops the firewood he is holding. He shoves her arm around his shoulder, giving her a firm support. He feels the tiny cold breaths escaping from Mikasa's hidden pain tingling through his warm neck.

Mikasa feels heat rise up to her face. She feels small traces of shiver crawl down to her skin and spine as it makes contact with Eren's. She tilts her head downward to hide the flush that was building up in her cheeks.

"Eren," she breathes. "You can let go now. I'm fine."

He rolls his eyes to her remarks and sits her down to the ground, her back resting against the trunk of the tree. "Stop being so persistent. Just rest, ok?"

"I said I'm fine."

"Yeah, yeah, you're fine." He scoffs at her and Mikasa tries to disregard Eren's annoyance. "At least sit there while I gather these up for the night."

A cool gush of wind whirls around them. Eren clutches his sweater tighter to keep himself warm, whereas Mikasa nuzzles to the inside of her warm scarf. She lets her eyelids fall for a few moments and she is taken aback by light loved and sun kissed days.

It flashes through her like the brightest memory that ever crosses her mind. It is golden and sweet. She looks down at him and intently studies his features; the wrinkle in his nose, the faintest pink in his cheeks, the dirt that tangles in his hair, the tear stains in his eyes, she knows it all too well. Then she softly shakes him, and he darts his eyes at her black pools and the wind tackles her hair once more.

She watches him. She smiles. "This feels like before."

He looks up from what he is doing. "What?"

"This," she sighs and tries to stand up.

"Mikasa—"

She holds up a hand, indicating that she is fine. "This feels like something that happened before."

He slowly nods his head in agreement. "Yeah," he gathers the last pile of firewood, and Mikasa offers to carry at least the half of it. Reluctantly, Eren gives her a few.

"We used to do this a lot back then." She says as they start heading back to the cabin.

"Never really liked it, though." he murmured under his breath.

"It always came handy when dealing with those kids who teased Armin."

He chuckles softly at what she says. It was true. This feels like back then; not just the firewood, but everything with her.

"Mikasa."

"Yes, Eren?"

"What I said back then, at the fields," he hesitates for a moment and looks at her through the corners of his eyes. He swears that a light flush builds up at her cheeks as he brings this up. "I mean it."

She does not say anything.

Eren eyes Mikasa; he knows that she looks at the ground whenever things get to these. She remains silent, and he is quite satisfied with that. _I know,_ is what she means to say, and Eren knows that. He sees her clutch the uneven surfaces of the wood and lets her bangs cover her face; _I know_ is what she doesn't say.

Mikasa clings and earns and longs and reaches out to Eren. She thinks at first that he is really far beyond her reach; he is Eren after all. He is of promises and undeterminable watercolor dreams and tainted wishes. But Eren promises her of fate that will never be unbounded by anything, and she, like any other fool, believes him.

"Are you cold?" he asks her. He sees how she slightly shivers as the soft air runs past through her clothes and skin.

"I'm fine. We're almost near the cabin anyway."

He stops walking and puts down the firewood he is holding. Mikasa turns around to look over Eren; he closes the distance between the two of them and she suddenly feels warmth all over her. She suddenly feels a soft shuffle in her neck, and she feels as if she is being stripped away from her own skin. Eren takes the scarf from Mikasa's neck and she attempts of retrieving it back, causing some of the firewood to fall from her arms, but he quickly holds it away from her reach.

"Ah, Eren, give it—"

"This will keep you warm," he cuts her, as he gently wraps the scarf around her neck. It was less haphazardly done than the first time he offers his scarf to her; it was more caring and cautious, something Mikasa rarely sees from Eren.

When he tugs it for the last time and secures it safely, she lets her cold stricken fingers slide through the fabric of the scarf. It feels warm, and the touch of Eren silently whispers through it.

"Thank you," she mumbles under her breath.

He leans down and picks up the pieces of wood he left on the ground. "As many times as it takes, remember?"

They walk silently back to the cabin afterwards.

Mikasa still clings and earns and longs and reaches out to Eren, but she thinks that someday, she will pass through the walls he created and lift off the weights that he insists on carrying; all along, all he ever need to do is reach back out to her.


	3. Sun-sweet Fruits and Summer Kisses

Title: Sun-sweet Fruits and Summer Kisses

A/N: The title's too mushy, I might just puke. So, I'm currently in tropical area and summer's almost here. Too early, eh? And because of that, we've got a lot of fruits, then bam! Inspiration.

* * *

><p>Fruits and wild summer berries were quite scarce. They were sold at the market at quite high prices, and if ever the stocks were more than the usual number of supplies, (and also happened to be cheaper) there would be nothing left for you if you arrived late at the market place. Even if they weren't the sweetest or the juiciest or the plumpest fruits, since the finest were always sold inside Sina, they were very much in demand.<p>

Luckily for Mikasa, who lived near the woods and somewhere at the base of the mountain, she managed to get a fair share on fruits. Her father would bring a basket full of melons and passion fruits, all round and plump and rich in color. She would wash it along with her mother; when her mother's not looking, she will pop a few grapes in her mouth and let its juice run wild in her mouth.

But now, she couldn't find the privilege to sweet and abundant fruits. She knew that she couldn't make an ever so big request to Carla, considering the fact that fruits at the market place were highly priced and she had caused Eren's family too much trouble.

* * *

><p>He let his feet play with the cool waters of the river. Eren kicked and splashed and it made his legs and a part of his clothes wet. The skies were scorching pastels, and somehow, the heat failed to bother him. Eren eyed Mikasa who was sitting beside him; she drew her legs up to her chest as her small fingers tugged at the grass.<p>

"Hey, Mikasa." He smiled at her with knowing stares.

She looked at him. "Yeah?"

Eren scooted down at the river and threw a handful of river-water at Mikasa's face. Mikasa was quickly taken aback by what Eren did; she coughed and ran her small hand through her face, clearing away the beads of water. Eren was bright and at the peak, he laughed like the sun, the mirth and smiles and soul were so evident in him, like the enigma of life Mikasa thought of him.

"Why did you do that?" she asked as she pulled her soaked hair away from her face.

"Nothing. You look like you're about to burn any minute now."

"I'm not." She said.

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not."

"I said, yes you are! And that's final." He shouted at her. Mikasa just stared at him for a moment and sighed out loud. _Fine, you said it so._

She stared at the river, how it was placid and how it let Eren played with its quiet ebbs and flows.

"Armin said that there's this huge river. No, he said it's bigger than a river, and wider—"

"The sea?"

"How'd you know that?" Eren looked at her questioningly.

"Armin told me so. He lent me his book."

"He," he gulped, and timidly added "lent you his book?"

Mikasa nodded, straightening up her dress.

"Oh." Eren looked down from Mikasa to the river. "Just don't let Mom see the book."

"I kept it hidden under your bed."

"How come I didn't see it?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Your room's always messy. Your mom made me clean it the other day."

Eren's face flushed red at what Mikasa said. He wanted to drop the conversation already. So what if Armin lent Mikasa his book? It's not that she liked him more…

"Want to go on an adventure?" he asked as he stood up from where he was seated.

"Adventure?"

"Yeah. I got a surprise for you." He held out his hand to Mikasa. For the slightest second, a soft tinge of red crept right up to her face when she held unto Eren's hand and as he pulled her up to her feet.

His eyes were of unexplainable wanderlust and stardust. Mikasa knew that teal glimmer that would escape from his eyes. It made her smile; it made her light, like the summer winds that played along with her hair. It made every bit of Mikasa overwhelmed by the presence of summer in Eren. Little did she know that as they would grow up, time and hate would rob him of his boyish charms and naught; it would be so rare to witness it.

They ran and ran under the summer sun. He held her hand, and she never let go. It reminded her of a promise that needed not to be spoken of. Past through the trees, by the river, down to the meadow; it was a place familiar to Mikasa. This is where Eren loved to steal short naps in the afternoon, where the blue flowers danced gaily to the whispers of the winds, where the leaves skittered and fell to the earth, where she saw him dreamed.

They stopped beneath the shade of the tree. He let go of her hand as he wiped the sweat on his forehead with the back of his arm. For a moment, Mikasa's soul stopped fluttering as Eren let go.

"Wait here." He said, as he eagerly ran.

"Eren—"

"Just wait there!" he was immediately a good few meters away. He waved at her and flashed her a reassuring smile.

Mikasa tried to look at what Eren was doing. She tiptoed and squinted her eyes, but Eren's back was facing her. He bent down on the bushes as if picking up something. He ran back to her under the tree, all flushed and red by the heat and excitement.

"Here." He said as he presented to her a handful of dewberries.

"Berries? This is your surprise?" she asked as she looked at his dirt and juice-stained palms then to his face.

"What? You don't like berries?"

"No! I love berries. It's just that—"

"Well, what are you waiting for? Here!" he pushed it to her eagerly. She studied the fruits that were before her then she took a piece then popped it right to her mouth.

"Is it delicious?" Eren asked.

She nodded her head as she greedily chewed on it.

"I didn't know there were berries here." She said as she placed another berry in her mouth.

"Me too." Eren took a berry from his palms and ate it. "I just discovered it the other day."

"How did you know I love these?"

"I just thought so. You know what, whenever we get to have fruits, my mom even puts cream in it and serves it as dessert."

They ate and ate until there was just one berry on Eren's palm. Mikasa hesitated, but Eren made her open her mouth and popped it inside. She blushed a little at his actions and tried to hide it.

They sat down beneath the tree. The wind was still soft and tender. Eren yawned and placed his hand on his mouth. "Today's a secret, ok? Don't tell anyone, not even Armin."

She nodded, and she could feel a small weight was placed on her shoulder. Eren was already asleep, his head on Mikasa's shoulders.

Back then, Mikasa thought that the best summers were the ones back at home, where her mother dressed her up in pretty sun dresses and flowery hats, and they went on picnics. But then she thought that maybe lazy summers and dewberry picking with Eren were so much better.

* * *

><p>AN: There goes another plot-less fluff.


	4. Little Things

A/N: So, **_overcast fireside _**has mentioned in one of the reviews that it would be interesting to read something from Eren's POV, so here you go. :D This is basically a word-vomit. I did this in like fifteen minutes and without any editing.

* * *

><p>She is like the softest glimmer of light on the night everything fell at its feet and bones. Call it faith or hope, or whatever word you could find to associate with her pure enigma. She is well-defined by the dullest beams of the moon and nostalgia of yesterday. She may not be the brightest (for it is already given and a relative fact that Christa is the brightest) but her glow is never to be missed; it is crestfallen and embraced with all the kindred and love she could ever bear to carry along with the scars that are sketched on her skin.<p>

Eren thinks she is fragile; she is the finest yet the thinnest glass that when broken, it would be hard, impossible even to pick up all the pieces. And Eren wonders how the hell did he manage to pick her up and get her feet back firm on the ground. Really, for him, it is just a deed he considered as a must. Little did he know it will lead to a change that shall not be forgotten.

She has dreams too, broken and shattered and at the same time all too beautiful. It is, after all, a cruel and beautiful world. What Eren doesn't know is that Mikasa is willing to live a breath in a cruel place with him rather in a thousand lifetimes in a world where beauty is an understatement yet Eren does not exist.

She is unpredictable and you do not know what to expect from her. But then again, if you're Eren, and Armin for that matter, you would not fail to know how she tends to react to certain situations, especially those concerning Eren. She risks and the sincerity in her eyes are ever so evident; in this, Eren softens and lets his walls fall apart. He doesn't know what took him so long to understand that.

After quite some time and a lot of contemplative thinking, Eren comes to acknowledge that Mikasa is home. You don't have to be literal; you just have to feel it. It may not be the structure, the traditional one, but the lost vestiges of the home he once had are in her. And it kills him so.

She is like the red in his blood and pulse and veins, and the red in her neck. Once upon a red-tainted and perverted night that perpetually scarred her, Mikasa is given life, sealed with the warmth of Eren's scarf. At the time, Eren failed to see how it is a matter of reciprocity. He is quite the fool, for he's a young boy whose mind is filled with follies and is robbed of it. He lets go, and seeks comfort and strength and warmth in her.

To him, Mikasa is life; nothing more is needed to be said than what is already said.


	5. Goddam Gold Ring

Ratings: T (minor swear words)

Disclaimer: Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin and The Catcher in the Rye do not belong to me. They belong to Hajime Isayama and J.D. Salinger.

A/N: This is my first AU fic for Eremika. I will be dividing this thing into two or three or four, whatever

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><p>"I don't know anymore, Armin." Eren sighs. It is a rainy November-night. For some reason, Eren thinks that the weather is getting on his hair. He feels as if he is in the midst of confusion sand misunderstandings, somewhere in between of frustrations and misinterpretations along with the gloominess that lingers in the breaths of the rain. He shifts his umbrella to his other hand; <em>what's the point, <em>he thinks. _The umbrella's all useless as well. _"It's like I don't understand her or this or us, or everything in between anymore. She simply is being blunt at times. I just—" he breathes in deeply and stops walking.

Armin notices how Eren suddenly stops his blabbering. "Hey," he looks back at him. He tries to put a faint smile in attempt to console and cheer Eren up. "come on. You'll get sick. She's waiting inside."

"I just don't get this whole thing anymore."

He looks at the ground. How are they going to resolve this? Everything is edgy and at the brink. Eren thinks that the only reason why he and Mikasa spend time together is because it is mandatory, compulsory, a must. He wants to be with her, to hold her hand, to feel her breath hitch as he hugs her, but then right now, he is not sure at all.

The coffee shop has this vibrant ambiance, like life itself. Something that Eren is all too familiar with. It shelters warmth despite the cold rain. It is just across the street, from where he and Armin are standing. He thinks that he has never been as unwilling to enter the café. Both Eren and Armin are silent, only the distinct and muffled noises from the street and the monotonous patter of the rain against the pavement can be heard.

Eren stands before the door of the coffee shop, hesitant and reluctant, one hand holding the damp umbrella, the other against the handle of the door. He feels a soft hand on his shoulder.

"Hey." Armin smiles at him. "Stop worrying. You know how she is. It's going to be fine."

Eren shrugs. "I hope so."

"You know you love her."

Of course. But a part of Eren is not sure at all. He delves in between the assured and doubts. It is like casting a hope-filled net on unsure waters. "I don't know." His mouth twitches at this, and he is engulfed by guilt.

Armin rolls his eyes. "Yeah right," he smirks. "I wonder who was so head-over-heels in love with her since third grade."

Eren feels his face turn red at what Armin says. God, how does his face even manage to do that even at situations like this? How does Armin manage to blurt out shit like that? "Quit it, Armin."

"Oh, yeah right. We're in the middle of a life-and-death situation." He slightly taps his shoulder. "Just call me whenever you need me. I'll be just around the corner."

"Yeah, whatever." Eren chuckles slightly as he nods and Armin starts walking away from the café. Eren runs his fingers through his unkempt hair and exhales deeply. He opens the door and a small chime that indicates someone has entered rings.

He eyes the whole place. There are only a few people around, making it easier for Eren to spot Mikasa. She is seated in the corner of the place, on a table where it is poorly lit; she tries to concentrate on the book she is reading, _The Catcher in the Rye._ Eren sees how her fingers constantly fiddle with the leaves of the book then at the loose hem of the red scarf. _That goddam red scarf._

"You shouldn't be reading here. The lighting's not good." He puts his hands inside his pockets as he approaches her.

She looks up from her book then to him. "Eren." Her lips pull a straight line as she clears her throat since it is hoarse. She pulls her scarf up to her nose.

"Are you reading that part again?" he asks as he sits himself across her and places the umbrella near the foot of the table.

Mikasa nods; she marks the page and sets the book beside. She places her hands, tucked and entwined with the other, on the table before her. Eren looks at her pale hands then at the worn copy of the book. "Could you read that part out loud?"

She looks at him dumbly; Mikasa is quite confused. Eren simply stares at her, wondering if she will read it out loud to him. He doubts it. He's betting a dollar for a nickel she won't. She probably thinks he is being stupid, making her meet him up on a rainy night just to read to him The Catcher in the Rye.

But to his surprise, Mikasa picks up the book and flips it to where she left the bookmark, on page two-hundred eleven, and starts reading.

"_..she walked once all the way around it. Then she sat down on this big, brown, beat-up looking old horse. Then the carrousel started, and I watched her go around and around. There were only about five or six other kids on the ride, and the song the carrousel was playing was 'Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.' It was playing it very jazzy and funny. All the kids kept trying to grab for the gold ring, and so was old Phoebe, and I was sort afraid she'd fall off the goddam horse but I didn't say anything or do anything."_

She pauses and draws her coffee to her lips and takes a sip of it. She looks over at Eren to see if he would like to continue; he is simply staring at nowhere, and so Mikasa decides to continue reading.

"_The thing with kids is, if they want to grab for the gold ring, you have to let them do it, and not say anything. If they fall off, they fall off, but it's bad if you say anything to them."_

Mikasa closes the book. Eren is still staring, staring into something beyond. Back then, he used to stare at how Mikasa tucks the stray strands of her hair behind her ear, at how Mikasa unconsciously licks her chapped rose-tinted lips, at how she always wears the red scarf he gave her, at how she slowly dozes off to sleep while reading to him The Catcher in the Rye at one in the morning. Now, he couldn't find himself to just take a glance at her.

"That's your favorite part." Her voice is coarse from reading; she takes another sip of her coffee. "I always stop there."

Eren doesn't say anything; he just grunts and nods his head. He slightly slouches and lets his eyelids fall for a few moments.

They were both silent for a few moments; just the small chatters from the people around the coffee shop and the distinct clinks of the teaspoon against the cup can be heard. Mikasa has always known Eren as the incisive one, and it has always been her and Armin who are able to go through his demeanors. But sometimes, when all she ever wants is to be with him, she thinks he's being too elusive. And these are one of the moments in which Mikasa sees Eren at his most elusive.

She knows something's up; really, even if she weren't as smart as Armin, she has sensed it. These past few days, Eren is quite off. She thinks she can handle this; that she can make it pass through his walls, but it seems that Eren himself does not even bother to let her in. But she does not give up, because what then? They become even lost than they already are; her as intrusive and gentle as ever, and him as blunt and stubborn.

"Eren," Mikasa tests his name on her tongue. "What is—"

"Hey, wanna play a game?" he sits himself up and shrugs his shoulders. He attempts to put up a faint smile, and Mikasa tilts her head back in wonder.

"A game? You're being weird tonight, huh."

He smirks and rolls his eyes. Mikasa chuckles at this; it has been a while since they did something like this. Perhaps he is attempting to save whatever's left?

"So, do you wanna play a game or what?"

She smiles at him, not the flashy one or the big grin, just the smile Eren is ever so used to see at her, the hidden and something-beyond smile of Mikasa. "Yes. So, how do you play it?"

"Er, it's not really a game, I guess." He looks around him and sheepishly rubs the nape of his neck. "I'll just ask you a few things. You don't need to answer it if you don't want to."

Mikasa raises an eyebrow at him. "An asking game? Why, is there anything to ask more?"

_No,_ Eren thinks. _There's nothing to ask, nothing to know. I just miss you but everything's all wrong these days._ "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Mikasa shakes her head lightly, "I wanna play."

"Ok then. Let's start." He shifts his weight in his seat and thinks of the stupidest question he could ask. "What's your favorite color?"

Mikasa's lips twitches at this question. "Eren, you know that already."

"What?" he raises his voice and gives her a blunt look. "It's just a color. Say it already."

"Green." She hesitantly whispers the word.

"Green?" He shifts his head to look Mikasa in the eye then at her scarf. "I always thought it was red."

"It's green."

He dumbly studies her as his green-glazed eyes inspect her from head to toe. "You're making me sound so stupid, Mikasa." He chuckles lightly, and for some reason, a light tinge of red creeps up at the pale of Mikasa's cheeks.

Somehow, Eren feels as if something is not right. The first question is supposed to be a preparation for. . . bigger question yet to come. It is a dumb question, and he has expected himself to know Mikasa's answers to the first question. It makes him nervous to ask her more questions. It leads Eren's mind into the idea that this night might not turn out well.

"Ok, next question." He studies her quickly but intently; then his eyes shift to her fingers then to the worn copy of her book and then to the half-filled cup of coffee. He doesn't actually know how Mikasa particularly likes her coffee. "How do you like your coffee?"

She looks at her mug. "With a teaspoon of sugar and cream in it, I guess."

A good hour and so passes with Eren continuously asking Mikasa mundane questions, and she supplies it with the simple facts. On weird moments, Eren finds himself a complete and total asshole for not being able to know these little things about Mikasa, considering the fact they have spent a good matter of time (years, for that matter) with each other. All he wants to do by time Mikasa's out of sight is bang his head hard against a wall.

He leans back on his chair and stretches his arms. Mikasa's cup is already empty, leaving the coffee stains on the mouth of the mug. Eren studies her; she is still Mikasa, the girl whom he had a crush on ever since he was nine, the girl who never fails to keep her composure on times like these, the girl who has sworn the world and her all to him. She is his rock, and it still amazes him how she manages to completely balance him out.

The night is already late; some of the customers have left and the crew starts to mop the floorboard and cleans the dishes. It's a good thing that the café is opened twenty-four-seven; that is enough for Eren to hopefully resolve things. He is going for the last question, and then shall he start to seriously do the talking. He eyes looks at the corner of Mikasa's side of the table, then he suddenly knows the last thing he's going to ask her.

"What's your gold ring?"

"Huh? My gold ring? What do you mean?" she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she leans towards Eren.

"You know, the gold ring, from Catcher in the Rye? The one from the carrousel and how his sister, Phoebe attempts on reaching that gold ring."

Mikasa scoffs yet her lips curl up to a slight smile. "That sounds like a phony question."

"That sounds like a goddam Holden Caulfield. Just answer it already. What's your gold ring?"

She chuckles at his remarks. She fixes her arms before her and takes a deep breath. "You are, Eren."

"What?" he blinks his eyes at what Mikasa says.

"You're my gold ring, Eren. Uh, this sounds so stupid. Can we move to the next question?" her face heats up as she awkwardly shuffles in her seat, pulling the scarf up to her nose in attempt to hide her blush.

As for Eren, he does not know how to respond or to even say anything to Mikasa. What he just heard is something he is not expecting; he thinks Mikasa is unfathomable, beyond his reach even, but what he learns tonight is that everything might have been the other way around.

He feels his breathing hitch as seconds tick by; Mikasa's stares throw him questions that Eren knows all too well. He sighs deeply and runs his hands ruefully through his hair.

"Hey, you okay?" Mikasa asks, her eyes filled with concern.

"Uh, yeah. I think so."

She lets out a deep sigh and leans against the cushion of her seat. "Now what?"

"I don't know."

"Are you sure you're okay, Eren?"

Then out of the crisp and lingering silence of the room, he banged his fists hard against the wooden table. Mikasa is taken aback with his actions, causing her to flinch a little. "Explain everything to me, Mikasa!"

"Eren!" she exclaims, as she tries to stand up from her seat.

"No, just sit there." He looks around and sees the baristas and waiters from the counter eyeing the both of them. He massages his temples as he tries to regain his composure. "I'm sorry, it's just that I don't understand." Eren mumbles.

"Eren? What is it that you don't understand?"

"This!" he gestures the space between the two of them as he seethes the word. "And what you have just said about that goddam gold ring."

"I mean it." She bites on her lower lip; her eyes fail to meet his. Mikasa knows how Eren is when he is confused or frustrated, and it is not to her pleasing when she fails to comfort him, or on some accounts, when she is the source of his annoyance. "Phoebe keeps on reaching for the gold ring. All the other kids riding the carrousel keep on reaching for the gold ring. I keep on reaching for you, Eren."

He shakes his head in failure of understanding. "What do you mean? You keep on reaching for me? Fuck, Mikasa. I'm here. I'm always here! You don't have to reach out for me, or whatever your shit means. You're still being vague, just get to the poi—"

"How about an icebreaker, huh, Eren?" she attempts to muster up all her courage despite Eren's rage.

He takes in a deep breath and exhales. "Why don't we just drop this? Let's just forge—"

"No, Eren." She insists, her voice firm. "You do want to play a game, right?"

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks at her, and for whatever reason, no matter how vague it seems, as vague as the two of them are at the moment, it comforts him. "Okay."

"What about you, Eren, what's your gold ring?"


	6. Goddam Gold Ring (part 2)

A/N: This is divided into three parts. That's final.

Disclaimer: Disclaimed; Isayama's and J.D. Salinger's (for some quoted parts)

* * *

><p>"What about you, Eren, what's your gold ring?"<p>

She is ebony hair and gray pools and pale lips and moon-kissed. _She is Mikasa._ And Eren thinks that she is his "gold ring." But then again, something holds him back, like grudges and follies and expectations. After all, when he first saw her, and sometimes at rather odd accounts, he thinks that Mikasa is too good for him. Eren thinks that she is beyond of his reach and all he ever does is try to yank her as the carrousel keeps on going around and around.

"I don't know." Is what he gives her rather than a _You_.

She keeps her face blank, not giving out a hint of any of her expression. Then she acknowledges his answer by nodding her head.

"I'm sorry." He whispers.

She shakes her head and smiles. "Don't be."

"No, Mikasa. It's all wrong. I cannot keep on doing this to you."

"Do what? Eren, please." She practically begs with her eyes. "I understand, Eren."

"It's unfair, Mikasa. I'm being unfair. I'm your gold ring, while I don't even know what's mine, and we're like having a book club meeting or—or a, uh, a fucking book review of The Catcher in the Rye!"

"Eren, don't you understand? You're the gold ring here because sometimes I think, I cannot reach you. It's like you're building up your walls and—"

"Cannot reach me? Mikasa, do you even hear yourself?" He shoots her an angry look; Mikasa scrunches at this. He clenches his fists as he tries to calm himself down. "It isn't supposed to be like this."

"If it is not like this, then how?" her shoulders shudder at what Eren would say.

He looks at her, hoping for something.

Something that might not possibly even be there. "I have no idea."

She nods. To be honest, Mikasa knows why Eren asked her to meet him up tonight. It kills her to just even think of it; what more if it would be put into reality?

"Mikasa, I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

"No, you don't get it. I'm apologizing for—"

"Eren," she pulls up a hand to silence him. "I told you, I understand. I know you're having a hard time putting it into words."

Then, she crumbles. She breaks, and what is worse is that she breaks in front of him. She tries to stop it but she could feel the hot tears forming at the corners of her eyes, and it is impossible to prevent it from falling down through her cheeks.

"Mikasa—"

"No, it's okay." She wipes her eyes with the back of her forearm like a child. God, she is a weeping child. She tries to smile for him despite the pain that slowly inflicts through and within her. "Maybe it's not really right. I—I, uh, oh God. I guess, it isn't—"

The only audible things are her sniffles and her gasps for breath.

"I, uh, it's getting late." She clears her throat. "I better get back home."

Eren reaches out for her but she stops him. "It's okay. I got this." She almost stumbles as she stands up to her feet.

"A—are you sure? Do you want me to walk you home?" he stands up from the opposite side of the table.

_Walk me home? Ha! That's priceless._ "No need." She grabs her bag and places it on her shoulder as she makes her way across the coffee shop. "See you later, Eren."

The door closes behind her; the last thing Eren saw of her is her scarf. He does not follow her and he swears that everything is so wrong.

* * *

><p>"Eren? What's up?"<p>

"Hey, Armin. Uh, sorry for bothering you. It's just that—"

It is raining harder than it was earlier; Eren thinks the rain is really getting on his hair, probably making fun of him. He just needs to shut the world off, shut every little trace of it, and let him disappear from its grounds. And at the moment, Eren thinks that Armin is the one who can understand his state of being misunderstood.

And as Eren expected, Armin simply knows how things go. "It's okay, you moron. You still at the café?"

"I don't know, Armin, but it feels all too wrong." Eren disregards Armin's question, his voice all shaken up. He tries to calm down as his hand nervously clutches the phone to his ear. "I just thought that by the time this is over, I would feel, ugh, I don't know."

"Feel what, Eren?"

"I said I don't know, okay?" he grunts and Armin quickly thinks of a response.

"What happened?"

"About?"

Armin rolls his eyes. It's a good thing he's on the phone, and it's rather another good thing that his best friend is quite stupid sometimes. "What happened to Mikasa?"

Eren does not say anything. Armin just hears Eren's heavy breathing from the other line. For a moment, it scares Armin. "Hey, Eren. Get your shit together. What happened?"

"I shouldn't have done this, Armin." He says as he attempts to make his voice sound steady. "I shouldn't have ended it."

"You broke up with her."

"Yeah."

Armin sighs. _God, really, Eren?_ "Eren—"

"I know, Armin, I know. I'm so fucked up. I—I don't even know why I did that."

"So what are you going to do?"

Eren smirked and it just annoyed Armin. "Nothing. She's probably murdered me in her mind anyway."

"You could really be a peabrain sometimes, huh?"

"What the fuck?" he gives off a weak laugh. "What do you mean by that, huh?"

"Listen, I may not know what happened to you tonight, or how your conversation went, but she's Mikasa."

"And your point?"

"Quit messing around. My point is that she's Mikasa. As simple as that; nothing more, nothing less. What else do you need to know?"

Eren scoffs at what Armin says. "I don't even know what her favorite color is."

"And so? Does that change the fact that she's Mikasa?"

He does not say anything. Really, arguing with Armin will get you nowhere.

"What do I do now?"

"I don't know. Go to her, I guess? Then get back to her pants the Yaeger way." Armin laughs at the other line.

Eren pushes himself to laugh at Armin's joke. "Fuck you, Armin. You won't get away with that."

"Oh yeah? Well, Mikasa's getting away. What're you going to do about it?"

"What did you say, Armin Arlert?"

"You heard me. I said that Eren Yaeger's a lovesick school boy who got busted by the girl of his dreams!"

"Haha, Armin. You'll do for a clown."

"No, seriously Eren," Armin clears his throat, dropping the humor. "just do what you think you need to do."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Where are you? Want me to come over there?"

"Nah, no need."

"Ok, suit yourself."

"Hey Armin?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." He mumbles, his breath clouds his face.

"No problem." He hangs up, and Eren still does not know what he needs to do.

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><p>AN: ur typing down that review for me... pretty please? ok, how about prompts instead? im pretty much that pathetic.


	7. Different Turns

Prompt: Eren thinking what if her parents were never killed and they met at "that time?"

A/N: For _**stardere**_, because she wanted to see my take on Eren thinking of "what-ifs." Did I justify the angst theme with this fic? (Psst, the answer is a big fat-ass no.) Heck, I don't think I even did the prompt some justice. I'm sorry. *cries in the corner*

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><p>There had been certain events as to which Eren had shoved off his surges of hate, anger, vengeance and whatnot. Notoriously known for said traits, it was still possible for his demons to be tamed under considerable dispositions; and that being one of the nights wherein he saw Mikasa fast asleep on the couch at the cabin where the Levi's squad is currently staying.<p>

And at that certain moment, Eren found himself quite compelled to not think of Mikasa and what makes her Mikasa; it was quite inevitable, to be frank. Her eyelashes were long and entangled against each other like tumbleweeds after the rain, draped and damp from tears. Her knees were slightly curled up as her arms were warmly tucked beneath her head. Eren wanted to touch her, perhaps have his fingers run through her hair that was of chamomile scent and feel her soft breath tickle his skin.

Mikasa looked serene, probably had escaped into a more beautiful place through thoughts and dreams that were in vain. And with that thought crossing his mind, Eren couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt crept through his bones.

Out of the blue, he pondered: what would it be like when there was no Mikasa?

Confound that thought! He could live without MIkasa! As if she was a must, or a necessity, or. . . well, isn't she?

It sliced through his insides to just even think of it; what more if it be put to actions? Sure, Mikasa could be annoying and persistent as hell, but at that moment (not an ideal one, though) he decided that he could never be able to live from something that he had grown so fond of.

Eren knelt down just before the couch and looked at Mikasa. He was a good few inches away from her; he intently gazed at how the faint moonlight cradled her face in the dark of the ghosts. She shifted from her position, and Eren moved away a little.

He gently put a warm hand upon her shoulder and quietly shook her, "Mikasa."

She grunted and said something through deep murmurs.

"Hey, Mikasa. Come on; let's get you to your quarters."

She took a deep breath and slowly blinked her eyes. Within a few moments, she had managed to identify Eren's face in the dark. "Eren," she said through yawns as she lazily straightened up.

"Hey," he stood up from his post. "It's already late. Get back to your room."

"Why are you still awake?" she rubbed her eyes and tiredly tamed her hair. "Did you have a nightmare?"

He rolled his eyes at her remarks. "As if I were the one who used to wake up in the middle of the night because of nightmares."

Mikasa suddenly felt heat gathered up to her face; she quickly nuzzled half of her face in the red scarf that was idly hanging loose from her neck.

Eren watched her; and while doing so, he caught himself rather off guard. _God, it was just Mikasa. _She looked pretty all of a sudden. Where on earth did the idea of her being pretty pop from? It's not that she was not pretty, in fact, back then when Mikasa just moved into their household, Eren would intently had his gaze fixed upon her as she worked in the kitchen with his mother. _Maybe she's the only girl who's a little bit prettier than mom._ And his mom would catch him staring at Mikasa; he would simply turn his head away as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried to calm the red in his cheeks.

"Is there something wrong?" Mikasa asked, as she looked up to him with all the cares and worries through her opal eyes.

"Quit it, Mikasa. Nothing's wrong." He cleared his throat as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

"Are you sure?"

"I said I'm fine Mikasa." Eren said, with a voice barely used at two in the morning. "Anyway," he sat down beside her, making sure that there was not a part of him touching her, because it rather shook him off for whatever reason. "why are you here?"

"Miss Hanji, along with Moblit and her squad went out on experimentation. I'm assigned on patrol tonight."

"Late at night?"

She gathered up her hair to the side. Eren noticed how much her hair had gotten longer. Either way, he decided that he doesn't care at all. It's just hair. "Yeah. She said that it would be easier to move at night. She thought it would be safer, she said. Eyes are shuttered close during the night, you know?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he just stupidly nodded. "Any idea on what they are experimenting on?"

She shook her head and yawned, the traces of sleep still evident in her droopy eyes. "How about you, why are you up? Nightmares?" She slightly nudged him in the shoulders, making Eren's bones dissolve into pools.

"Really, Mikasa? Would you like me to remind you of how you used to crawl up to my bed while crying in the middle of the night?"

"Ok, ok. You got me." She chuckled softly, putting up her hands in the air as a sign of defeat in their childish game.

"No, you started it." He said as he pulled up his legs and faced her, grinning stupidly as ever. "I honestly don't know why you act so motherly around me, when all along I'm the one whom you ran to."

"Please Eren." She grunted and rolled her eyes. "That was a long time ago."

"Doesn't seem that long to me."

"What do you want, Eren?" She asked as she faced him, putting up the deadpan face in front of him.

"That face won't do. I'm not Jean, you know." He said teasingly, and it managed to make Mikasa turn scarlet. He smiled at seeing her blush, and he suddenly realized what he did there and he wanted to bang his head hard against the wall. "Sorry," he murmured.

She gripped her scarf and readjusted it. "It's okay."

The night was at its deepest; nothing seemed to be moving except for the two of them. And sometimes, Eren wished that it could always be like this; the world is theirs and theirs alone at that very moment. It was a worldly and temporary escapism for the both of them, but escape had never really been one of his options at all. It could pull them back to the gruesome and demented reality within the slightest flicker of the eye or snap of the fingers, the reality that had forever inflicted its nails and teeth through their skins.

"Hey," Mikasa tilted her head downwards to face Eren. "You okay? You suddenly shifted there."

He looked at Mikasa, and it slapped him. He was looking at someone who had invested her life and all her breaths to him. "I just, uh, thought of something."

"Hm?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing, really."

"Come on, you could always tell me. Something's bothering you. What is it?"

He sighed loudly and leaned his head backward, near the window, making its faint light glow upon the crest of Eren's head. "Remember that one time when we used to sneak out in the middle of the night?"

Mikasa's eyes shifted to weird stares as her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Yeah, I remember that. How could I forget it?"

"And remember how you got your sleeves torn by one of the branches back at the hills?" He asked with the glitter in his eyes that she was all too familiar with.

"You kept tugging on me!" She chuckled at remembering this. "It was quite hard to keep that scratch from your mother."

Eren managed to pull off a light laugh as they recalled what they did back then. God, since when was the last time he shove away all his cares and just laugh at what he and Mikasa used to do? Probably years. . .

Then as he would later claim it, his hand moved at its own. It grabbed the strands of the soft fabric that was wrapped around Mikasa. Mikasa looked down from his hands then up to Eren. "Why do you still cling to this, huh?"

She let her fingers run through the soft and tattered scarf, until it brushed against Eren's own hand. He felt something electric at the contact, and it made him gulp. "I don't know." She shrugged. "I mean, it means a lot to me."

He nodded and let go of the scarf. She sighed deeply and leant back at the couch. "I know I've said this before." Her fingers innocently fiddled with the strands of the wool. "but thank you. And you might get annoyed by me saying it all over again, but I owe you my li—"

"If you're doing all of this because you think you've got a debt or someth—"

"It's not that I feel indebted to you!" she said as she tried to hide her face with a part of her hair. "I know that I am, and don't you tell me, Eren, that I am not. But it is something beyond paying you back."

He crossed his arms. "Then what is it?"

"You'll know." She offered her a small smile; not the flashy proud smile. The smile that defined Mikasa. It was rather rare and exclusive, and Eren was one of the few who got to see it in her. He felt his face go warm at her smile, and so he quickly shifted his sight at something else.

"Anyway, you don't need to worry anymore." He cleared his throat.

"Worry about what?"

"Nothing." He laughed. "I told you, nothing."

"Oh, Eren, stop that." She scoffed at his stupid statements. Nothing to worry about? Ha! There's a laugh. It was mere wishful thinking. She had long ago given up on that; it was a demented notion, something considerably impossible. And to think of such would only get one into wrenches and broken dreams.

"Nah, I mean it, Mikasa. You don't need to worry. And Armin too."

She laughed and pulled her legs near her chest. "Ok then. You said it."

"I promised Armin we'll get out of these walls. And I promised you we'll always be together, right?"

She shot him a stare. Eren looked back at her with his green eyes, bearing all the hopes and promises he had set himself of reaching. She knew he was persistent and nothing could ever alter his mind. And then she broke in front of him. Hot tears prickled her eyes as she felt all the grudges and rocks and ghosts of her red-tainted memories were lifted up.

"Hey," he cupped her face as he thumbed away her tears. "why are you crying?"

She shook her head. "I'm not crying."

"Really, Mikasa?" he chuckled. She really was a cry-baby.

And they were just like that: her choking on her sobs as he constantly tried to wipe away all her tears. And nothing else mattered, because it was just the two of them. They owned the world, it was theirs and theirs alone, and no threats awaited them on the dawn. But it was only something they wished off.

Out of the blue, he pondered once again: what would it be like when there was no Mikasa?

"Mikasa," he tested her name upon his tongue as he reluctantly let go of her. "if we weren't here, would you still stay with me?"

She wiped the remaining tears with the back of her hand. "Of course, you dummy! I'll always be with you."

"I think it's my fault. I'm sorry."

"For what, Eren?"

"For dragging you here." He ran his fingers through his unkempt hair as he sighed.

"I joined at my own risk."

"But you only joined because I joined."

"I thought you said we'll always be together?" she shot him a stare.

He rolled his eyes. "Of course, but urgh. You're so stubborn."

"Stubborn? It's you who's stubborn! And what is this, all of the sudden? Why don't you just tell me?" He felt Mikasa's gaze turned to worrying.

"Nothing. I was just thinking what would happen if, you know, things took a different turn rather."

"A different turn? What do you mean?"

"I, uh, I don't know. I mean, have you ever wondered what it would be like if we haven't met at all, or if—if, um your—"

"If that night didn't happen?"

He gulped. He didn't like talking about that night, neither did she. It was an unspoken rule that they mutually agreed to; it didn't have to be said, their tinges and thoughts were enough. "Yes."

Mikasa chewed on her lower lip. She had not thought of it at all. If Eren hadn't saved her, she would probably resented living, but if _that night_ did not occur, she had not yet thought of what might happen. Things would have probably made a different turn. "I don't know."

"I'm sorry." He shifted uncomfortably in the couch. "I know we're not supposed to be talking about this."

"It's okay. I understand." She tucked her arms upon the windowsill and rested her head upon it. "Maybe you're just over-thinking."

"Maybe." He nodded in agreement.

"But to be honest, I think I like the way how things took its turn that night."

"Really?" his eyebrows scrunched at the middle of his forehead. "How come?"

Her shoulders shrugged as she looked out on the window. "We wouldn't be like this, you know."

"Like what?"

"Like how we are right now." She tilted her head to face Eren. "I don't know what's it called."

"Yeah, I think so too. I wouldn't change it for the world, you know."

She looked at him and instantly knew how he all meant his words. He was Eren, and Eren kept everything, and she need not to doubt a word he says.

"I'm just wondering," his eyes shifted from Mikasa to what was outside the window. "if things did take a different turn, would you still sneak out with me in the middle of the night?" He flashed her a big grin.

She giggled at the thought. "I don't know, but it would be my mom asking me where I got those scratches rather than yours."

Eren let hearty laughs escape from him; it would be rare for things like these to happen. He burrowed his face in the crown of her head. The night was all they have as of now; embracing all its stars and vestiges and promises was all that they could do. And so they did, they embraced it, as they embraced each other, as he sought comfort in her, and she with him.

But the night, just like their nested-dreams and bottled-hopes, slipped of their palms. The dawn would come, and it would rob them of their dreamscape, and they were deprived once again. But like Mikasa to her battered-up scarf, they both cling to every part of everything, even the ones that were just mere fragments of their mad minds.

Their fates did not assure them of safety or even a future; they could die the moment they embark on another expedition. _It did not assure them the promise of witnessing the sea._ But Eren would go at certain extents to alter it. He would let his inner demons go wild and dance with his soul, but he would go through hell and the highest of waters to keep his promise. He would, as the fate or whatever you call it would allow, even if it took rather different turns, be with Mikasa forever.

And that was all that matters.


	8. Goddam Gold Ring (part 3)

"_The thing with kids is, if they want to grab for the gold ring, you have to let them do it, and not say anything. If they fall off, they fall off, but it's bad if you say anything to them."_

Eren feels as if that he is a little kid who just fell off a beat-up horse from the carrousel. Not because he attempts to reach for the gold ring, but because he stops to reach for it. He is a complete and a goddam phony.

He shoots his phone back to his pocket. Thanks to Armin, he just realized how big an ass he is. The rain is still dripping, making everything much worse. There are no more people in the café, just the crew, him and Mikasa's book.

He takes the book and opens it to where the bookmark is and skims through the pages near the end of the book. Once in a while, when he happens to pass through some of the paragraphs he really loves, he would read it through soft whispers and inaudible mumbles. Reading the Catcher in the Rye without Mikasa feels so different, it is like a new story itself is being told or a new Holden Caulfield is introduced to the reader.

Then, like a lightning and out of the blue, Eren tries to think why on earth is he still at the café, going through the same book all over again when he is supposed to run after Mikasa who is probably soaked in the rain by now. _Does she have an umbrella with her?_ He quickly stands up from his seat and grabs his umbrella which he sets under the table. He tucks the book between his arms, exits the coffee house and rushes off to the rain.

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><p>Despite the fact that he does not know Mikasa's favorite color, Eren still somehow knows that Mikasa won't go home after such an encounter with him like that. And with that little fact given out, he bets that she's just somewhere near the area.<p>

Occasionally, Eren shifts his umbrella to his other hand, and Mikasa's book to the other. He paces under the rainy night quickly, still engulfed both by nervousness and eagerness upon seeing Mikasa.

Then he sees her, partly soaked by the late night-rain, sitting in one of the benches under the shade of the bus stop. Once in a while, she clutches her scarf to keep her warm as lets her hair practically cover half of her face.

Eren slowly approaches her; Mikasa looks up from her lap to him. He is standing a good meter from her, as stupid as he may look under the rain. She quickly blinks the tears off and sniffs as she wipes her nose with the back of her hand. "Ahh, Eren—"

"Listen," he places the handle of his umbrella on his clavicle, tucking it so he could basically hold the book with both of his hands. "I know it's always you who reads The Catcher in the Rye out loud,"

"Eren what are you doing?" she stands up from the seat and stops just before the sidewalk where it is still covered by the shade. "Get in here, you might get wet."

"Drop it, Mikasa. I got an umbrella, and the lighting's much better here." He readjusts the umbrella and locks it between his jaw and shoulder; a lamppost stands just behind him, providing him good light. "I'm reading to you."

"You don't need to read it to me. I've read it a hundred times already anyway."

"It's a goddam Catcher in the Rye book review night. I'm reading to you." He clears his throat as he opens the book to where Mikasa left the bookmark, still on page two-hundred eleven.

"_When the ride was over she got off her horse and came over to me. 'You ride once, too, this time,' she said._

'_No, I'll just watch ya. I think I'll just watch.' I said. I gave her more of her dough. 'Here. Get some more tickets.'_

_She took the dough off me. 'I'm not mad at you anymore,' she said._

'_I know. Hurry up—the thing's gonna start again.' Then all of a sudden she gave me a kiss. then she held her hand out, and said, 'It's raining. It's starting to rain.'_

'_I know.'_

_Then what she did—it damn near killed me—she reached in my coat pocket and took out my red hunting hat and put it on my head."_

At this point, Eren feels something warm approaches him. He takes a glance up from the book then to Mikasa who is now standing under his umbrella as well. Eren leaves his index finger between pages two-hundred twelve and two-hundred thirteen as he holds the umbrella before the both of them. She yanks the scarf off of her neck then slowly, wraps it around Eren's, along with the threads of what's left of her.

"It's raining. It's starting to rain." She says.

Eren smirks and rolls his eyes. "It's been raining the whole day, for Christ's sake."

"Dummy," she chuckles. Mikasa securely tugs on the red scarf. "You just read that line. 'It's raining. It's starting to rain,' remember?"

For the slightest moment, Eren feels his breathing stops, the beating of his pulse quickens. It is like confessing to her all over again. He smells her peach-scent that lingers in the scarf. He feels her cold-stricken fingers brush against his skin and his worries drops all over. Mikasa gives him the faintest smile; just plain Mikasa, like the sheets yet untainted, and then Eren decides that it is simply enough to make him last through the day.

"How would this do as the red hunting cap?" she asks him as her laugh hitches nervously.

"Mikasa," he takes a deep breath. "about earlier—"

"You don't need to explain, Eren." She licks her lips and Eren crumbles at this, making him want to bang his head hard against the lamppost. "Reading that part is enough."

"I look like a complete idiot."

"You're such a phony, Eren."

"Yeah, I know." He chuckles nervously. He clutches the handle of the umbrella harder and purses his lips. "I tried to read The Catcher in the Rye earlier. It felt different."

"How?"

"Different… like a brand new story. I just want you to read it to me, or I'll read it to you instead, or maybe we could just read it together or I'm talking stupidly right now. God, I just—I don't know why I even did that. You know, even Armin thinks I'm such an asshole."

"Jean thinks you're an asshole too." She smirks.

"Jean, for crying out loud." Eren rolls his eyes at the mention of Jean's name. "Mikasa, you can kick me hard in the face or whatever. I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot."

She looks at him with those ever-knowing grey eyes of her. She plays at the hem of the scarf and tugs lightly at it.

Eren leans down to her and buries his face in the crown of her head. "Maybe it's just because I miss you so much. You're my gold ring, and I've been riding the goddam carrousel since God knows when." He whispers through her hair.

Eren hears the quiet sobs that escape from Mikasa; her shoulders shake, not because of fear or nervousness or of the cold, but because of the relief that overwhelms her at the moment.

"Hey, want an icebreaker?" she playfully tugs at his hair.

His mouth twitches for a moment, and then finally gives in. "Okay."

She cups his face with her cold hands, drawing it near to her face. She softly presses her lips against his. Eren lets his guard down, making the umbrella fall as he releases it and pulls Mikasa closer to him. He doesn't mind the rain, and so does Mikasa. They are against each other, cold and have been consoled and nothing could be even better. For a while, Eren feels as if his body drops dead on the ground at what Mikasa does. God, they have done this for a thousand times; make it a million. And it tugs at his amusement as he smirks at the stupid fact that this particular kiss, done after loosening the hope, after reluctantly reaching for the gold ring, under the midnight rain that he has been a complete and an utter phony.

God, Mikasa is his goddam gold ring.


	9. Nested and Bottled

A/N: I have been using the words "nested dreams and bottled hopes" in my Eremika fics before, and it's my favorite set of words. I love them just as much as I love Eremika lol.

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><p>She lied on her back, damp dews of grass stroked her cheeks under the night sky. The stars were abundant, like their nested-dreams and bottled-hopes, but abundant as they were, Mikasa thought that they were beyond and above her reach.<p>

Just like their nested-dreams and bottled-hopes.

She heard a soft rustle in the grass as she felt light shuffling beside her. Eren took her hand in his, and it shook her off from her worldly dreaming. "What are you thinking?" Eren asked.

Mikasa looked at him, at his eyes that were as alive and mad as his soul. She pressed her lips and closed her eyes. "Nothing."

"Hmm."

She nuzzled her scarf above her mouth, her own breath clouding her face.

"See that?" he whispered to her ears as he pointed up to the stars. "That's Armin's dreams and hopes. And yours and mine too."

Mikasa felt soft tingles ran through her skin and spine as Eren's warm breath lingered upon hers. A thought as mad as Eren just suggested was hard for her to contemplate; she isn't Armin after all. But she was not deprived of imagining a possibility, a rather demented and a thousand tomorrows away possibility, like Eren had believed and put his faith on.

But Eren were flames and untamable fires and hundreds of thousands mass of stars, and what she did was close her eyes, let his presence and his soft touches warm her, as she count the millions of stars hovering above them; nested and bottled up in her own tattered heart.


	10. A Kiss on the Lips

Prompt: A Kiss on the Lips

A/N: Happy Eremika fluff week! I'm posting this a few hours early since I won't be able to do the prompts for the next two days. Nevertheless, I'll try to do the other prompts. Sorry if this isn't as fluffy as how it should be.

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><p>A kiss on the lips means you care. A kiss on the lips bottles up the hopes and nests the dreams. A kiss on the lips means all what you wish to put into words but cannot. A kiss on the lips means you love her.<p>

And when Eren places a soft chaste kiss on Mikasa's lips with all the worldly cares thrown aside, he swears that everything he ever knows dissolves into thin air.

Mikasa is in deep slumber; her lashes flutter against each other like damp thimbleweeds after a rain in the morn. She nuzzles her nose and all in his touch; Eren is in a daze as everything about her makes him lightheaded and overwhelmed. He inches forward to her, closing in the breath and universe of distance. He presses his lips against hers, colliding and crushing like lost stars in the skies. Mikasa stirs and groans as she mumbles something. Eren gets his insides all topsy-turvy as she blinks her eyes open and rubs off the thoughts of her sleep.

"Hey," he whispers as he wraps a hand around her waist and pulls her closer.

"Hi," she smiles, encircling her arms around Eren's neck.

"It's still night. Go back to sleep." He pecks lightly on the tip of her nose.

She snuggles nearer to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

Eren strokes her hair with a warm hand. To him, Mikasa is the dull moon-breath on a mid-month. She is the clusters of Cassiopeia in every night and the sun in the blithe of the day.

Mikasa looks up at him, a crinkle of red blotches on her face and a kiss on her battered-up lips. Eren dips his head near to her, pushes his lips against Mikasa's and she kisses back. It is forever-still; of course the vestige of splattered red, the silhouette of a perverted and scarred past, the petrichor of each rain-shower, and a million yesterdays' ghosts are present in the kiss. Eren picks up on the little details, on every shade and hue of stardust in Mikasa's dark eyes, on every crooked and perfect constellation sketched on her palms, on every song the birds beyond the wall has sung. He picks it up like the way he picks up the thousand shards of broken glass. He picks it up in the kiss, in the past kisses of unresolved and ugly nights, and the thousand more kisses they are yet to share.

"I love you," Mikasa whispers through their kiss, a small smile tugging on her lips.

He cups her face as their legs got entangled up against each other. He pushes his forehead against hers, and he gently blows upon her face. And Mikasa laughs the way the maiden in the dark laughs at the stars above her. "I love you too."

He closes all the distance that has come between them; a distance of the moors of the morrow, the pints of dreams that are shattered, all the seas in the world combined, and the whole universe. All with a kiss on the lips.


	11. Under the Stars

Eremika Fluff Week Entry; Day 4

Prompt: Under the Stars

A/N: THIS IS NOT FLUFF, THIS IS ANGST, I'M SORRY. I TRIED SO HARD BUT I'M SICK AND MY MIND JUST DOESN'T WORK RIGHT NOW. K, BYE. Also, I'm sorry for not fulfilling all the prompts. I swear, I tried my best to generate something fluffy out of the Bubble bath prompt, but Eren and Mikasa ended up having rough sex and haha, that's not even fluff. So yeah.

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><p>They stand underneath the cascades of a dark sheet pecked with thousands of stars.<p>

Eren thinks that it is of life. It roars, it dances with an undying kind of passion, the kind that scars and inflicts through your skins and bones and the nakedness of your very soul - in every kiss all too light and ugly. In the clusters of Cassiopeia and the penchants of Cepheus' love for her. In the bends and bites and bones of Mikasa; like the stars, they are beyond any known number.

Eren knows for a fact that stars in the skies eventually run out of light. Starlight then, is only wishful thinking, an impertinent and abominable kind of beauty constructed within the walls of demented minds.

But Mikasa is constant.

She is fire among the thousand-mass stars. That, Eren is sure of.

So he treads the unsure waters, permeates through Mikasa's gossamer thoughts she stitched through time. He closes the distance of unknown lightyears or a mere tickle of breath with a snow-shuddered kiss.

And Eren swears he hears a light laugh in the bitter kiss they share on that night. It is the kind of a Mikasa Ackerman kiss, reserved and quiet, for Eren and Eren alone. But all the love in the shrill moment they share is there. And the feeling is all too sunny and bubbly, he never wants it to end.

And so they do not. They make the small fragment of time a forever. A forever under the stars.


	12. Interminable

A/N: Well, haha. Idk what this is, but this is like a 2am word puke and it's Eremika all ryt? K, bye.

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><p>Her love for him is interminable. An attempt to measure it is a preposterous idea. Mikasa had, has, and will always have devoted all of her life and heart to Eren. Simple as pie.<p>

And when they are apart from one another, a thousand worlds and an eternity of distance, nothing changes. Her love for him remains unaltered and still and interminable.

Eren has seen a lot in his life; death, the abyss of despair, the peak, the fear, blood, perversion, betrayal, light and everything all in between. But when he attempts to love Mikasa back, he finds himself as an utter idiot. Hers is beyond any known mass; more than the abundance of the stars in the night, the vastness of the sea, the blood wasted, and dreams shattered.

And so Eren decides, even when he knows how it is rather impossible to top or to even match hers, to love Mikasa with his all and everything.

His love for her is interminable.


	13. Blue Flowers

A/N: Originally posted in tumblr d00fus.

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><p>"For a bride," he says in a voice that is stern and quite loud. "It is for a bride to be. Any suggestions?"<p>

It is so hot in the marketplace, considering that it is just forenoon. There are distinct shouts of items that are on sale and murmurings of what are on the people's shopping list. The scene has always been like that, even back then when he accompanied his mother for their grocery shopping, with the murmurs and hullabaloos. For some reason, Eren would simply want to get away from all the commotion.

He rummages through the small kiosks where cheap perfumes and jewelry fit for eastern fashion are sold, then to where the flower-shops are. It isn't crowded like the other shops but he still needs to make his voice loud for him to be heard by the vendor.

"What?" calls out the florist. He scrunches his eyebrows as he cups a hand to his ear, leaning towards Eren.

Eren resists rolling his eyes at the man. For crying out loud, he has been shouting for what seems like a hundredth time. "For a bride to be! Do you have any flowers suited for a bride to be?"

"A bride!" exclaims the man behind the counter. He disengages from his post and turns his back on Eren. "Well, why didn't you say so? I've got the perfect bunch of flowers for a bride."

"Thank you," Eren says as he leans on his arms and looks away from the shop.

Frankly speaking, this has never been easy for Eren. Flowers are, well, simply just flowers. They grow from seeds sunken to dirt and at some point, they die; they wither and after that, well he doesn't really know. But he thinks it is the most appropriate gift to give to Mikasa. And that's why he resorts to flowers, with him ending up in the middle of the town's marketplace, looking for a flower fit for Mikasa.

The florist comes back holding up a bouquet of white carnations, long-stemmed and wrapped in a two week-old newspaper, still damp with dews. He holds it up before Eren and grins at him, his gruff mustache curves along.

"For a bride to be."

Eren looks at the bouquet. _The typical,_ he thought. It is always white, white, white. It is, after all, traditional. Besides, he has never seen a bride with a bouquet of flowers with the color none other than white. (Not that he has seen too many brides.) But then again, Eren is Eren, and white is simply not his color.

He smiles at the florist and waves his hand at him. "Thank you, but I don't think it is suited for _this_ bride."

The florist tilts his head in question. "What do you mean that my flowers are not suited for your bride? My flowers are the best!"

Eren shakes his head. "No, she is different. Thank you anyways. I am really sorry for having to bother you."

Then he walks away from the flower-shop, the florist gawking at him, whereas with Eren, he perfectly knows the flowers best suited for Mikasa.

* * *

><p>Back then, he has been in that certain place with Mikasa. It somehow feels different. Maybe it is because he goes there for a different reason, or maybe it is because there are no more walls around the place, or maybe it is because Mikasa is not around.<p>

Everything at the moment is inexplicable. He feels free and air and life, but the moment he thinks of such things, he feels his insides tie up to knots as a certain force steals all his breath and forever-dreams.

Eren sits down by the trunk of the familiar tree. The noon-air is warm; he is tempted for a short nap. He closes his eyes for a moment and breathes deeply.

He lets his eyes wander off around the place: the knee-long grass, the cadmium sun, the skies. He never thought the sky is something beyond abundance. His eyes then shifted farther to the stretches of the grass, and there he sees it.

_Blue Flowers._

A small grin escapes from Eren's lips. Those are the flowers best suited for a bride like Mikasa.

* * *

><p>Eren gulps as he wipes the beads of sweat forming on his temple with the back of his hand. He arrives at the place looking like a big dork with his knuckles knocked out of blood as it clutch tightly upon the stems of the blue flowers. The place seems to be fairly homely; the garden is filled with brown boxes, crumpled newspapers and some stuffs for the house, the tin roof a little worn and lopsided, the frosted glass windows all opened and have gathered up dust on its frames, and a little repainting and whitewashing would do. He walks toward the front door and just when he is about to knock, the door opens.<p>

"Eren?"

"Uh, hi, Armin." Eren greets him gingerly.

"Eren!" Armin exclaims. He steps out of the house and puts down the packages and boxes on the side. "When did you return?"

"Just last night. Sorry didn't make it here earlier."

Armin scoffs and idly waves his hands in the air. "Well, this is earlier than what we have expected. Mikasa's not really expecting you yet. We thought you wouldn't be back until after a fortnight or so."

"Well, I wouldn't want to miss the wedding, would I?"

Armin looks at Eren; he looks…well, older, if that is even possible. He has been gone for just half a year. And at times, (and considerably very sporadic) he writes to the both of them, telling them of his adventures, of what this place or that place looks like. Of course, Eren has changed, but nevertheless he is still Eren, the angry and impulsive yet emancipated. But Armin is not dumb enough to not notice his unusual countenance. He swears to the world that something is bothering Eren.

And he knows why.

"Hey," he places a warm hand upon Eren's slumped and shaking shoulder. Armin also notes the humble bouquet of flowers Eren is holding. "Come on. She'll be happy to see you." He tilts his head towards the inside of the house.

Eren looks at him questioningly, like a certain creeping reluctance and hesitance restrains him from entering the house. Armin smiles at him; not the assuring one, more of a sympathetic sort of smile, and for unknown reason, Eren thinks he should be convinced with Armin's smile.

The inside of the house is anything he has always thought of as a home. It reminds Eren of his home back at Shiganshina when he was younger. It is small and humble and warm, like a certain sensation all too familiar spreads within him. Although, it is still practically empty. The whole room is occupied with boxes and packages. There is a small couch with a couple of throw-pillows opposite the front door, a dusty fireplace and a small wooden table dumped with letters and newspaper in the middle of the room. The paint of the wall is peeling off with blotches of gray stuffs and holes and pegs for frames and shelves. On the adjacent room is the dining area; the cupboards, the sink, the dining table are perfectly in tack and in place. A flight of stairs that leads up to the bedrooms serves as the border of the living room and the dining room.

Eren looks around and examines more of the structure of the house. He hears soft rummaging and shuffling as Armin enters with more boxes in his hands.

"Nice place she got here,"

"Yep. I'm helping her move in here. She kinda needs to repaint the whole place, though."

Eren nods in agreement. "Where is she?"

Armin places the boxes near to a pile of unopened ones. "She's upstairs. She's unpacking her stuffs."

Eren nods as he looks up at the stairs.

"Want something to drink?" Armin offers as he walks to the dining room.

"No, not really." He mumbles through his teeth.

Armin looks at him with almost-sorry eyes. Eren walks to the opened packages and digs it with his free hand in search of something interesting.

A light set of footsteps starts coming down the stairs. Eren's head quickly snaps to the direction of stairs.

_It is her._

"Hey, Armin, I think I misplaced my—"

When Mikasa reaches the landing, she freezes at what she sees. Before her, is Eren Yaeger, stupid and impulsive, thank you very much. She blinks her eyes and shakes her head, in attempt to convince herself that it is merely a dream.

"I'm going to fix outside. Look who's here, Mikasa." Armin supplies as he walks past Eren and makes for the exit.

"Eren?" she dips her head to the side. She fails to notice that a small creeping smile settled upon her lips.

"Hey," he waves his hand.

Then the next thing he knows is that Mikasa is in his arms, giddy and excited and dusty at the same time. He doesn't know when did his hands manage to pull her into an embrace as he tucks his head to the crown of her head.

She pulls away and looks at his eyes. "When did you come back?"

"Yesterday."

"I didn't know you'd be back so soon!"

"Surprise it is, then?"

Mikasa smiles. She tries to calm herself, but the excitement is brimming. She runs her fingers through her messy hair. Eren looks at her; he thinks she's so beautiful. Not that he has not thought of her beautiful before, but there is something different in her. Something that was not there before, or maybe it is because he failed to notice it.

"Uh, here." He ruefully hands her the flowers. He sheepishly rubs the back of his head as if he's a schoolboy handing a flower to a girl. He thinks he should have at least made it look presentable, or wrapped it in fancy paper or something.

Mikasa looks at the blue flowers; she has always loved those back then. She takes it from Eren's hand, and for a split moment, she feels something warm as their hands made contact.

"I checked the marketplace earlier," Eren says, his eyes straying away from her. "but I think these are better than the typical white ones."

Mikasa looks up from the flowers to Eren. "Yeah. I think the white ones are so boring."

"So," Eren walks around the room, looking at stuffs dumped on boxes. "when's the wedding?"

Mikasa purses her lips. She looks at the back of Eren unknowingly. "Sunday. Next week." She says reluctantly.

She doesn't know why she suddenly feels uncomfortable. One moment, she feels so light and glad, and now, she doesn't really know what she feels. Maybe it is because she has never really imagined discussing this with Eren.

She fidgets with the flowers Eren gave her instead.

"I'm happy for you," Eren turns his back to face her. He gives her a small smile.

For some reason, Mikasa feels guilt, loneliness, fear, a combination of all. It doesn't feel right. Whatever it is, it sucks the soul out of her, leaving its imprint on her already-shattered bones. This could not get any worse.

Then he pulls her into another hug, like it is the only sane thing left to do. He clutches her shoulders with trembling fingers, digging deep through her skin. Like reflex, Mikasa buries her face to the crook of Eren's neck as her arms reach out for Eren.

Eren thinks it is the most comforting feeling in the world, all too fleeting for his mind to think of follies and worries. But then again, he knows this won't last. And so he lets go of Mikasa, with an attempt to let go of whatever he feels at the very moment.

Mikasa smiles back at him. He smiles back at her, and his smile defines it all. He is lost and broken and incomplete, and nothing else in the world could fill it up.


	14. Rust and Stardust

A/N: Title grabbed from Vladimir Nabokov's tiny poem from Lolita. Check that out.

* * *

><p>Screams were deafening.<p>

It was like a sort of injection, permeating through your blood through earshots; the syringe digging deep to the ivory crystals in the bones. Eren stopped at his feet when he heard her scream. It was the zenith of the line in between death and life. She never screamed. But her bottled-up pain, all tucked away from nightmares and every bloodbath dream, bursted out from her careful palms.

"Mikasa!" He shouted out her name. He ran to her, limp and near to lifeless.

He crouched down low, trying to calm himself at the sight before him. Mikasa was all draped and showered with blotches of red, her lips, her scarf, her blood all over. "Everything will be fine," he whispered.

Mikasa's lips drew a thin smile. A sad sort of smile. For what else could she offer Eren at that time? She was the hidden discreet beauty present in the wax and wane of Artemis, the stardust splattered upon every contellation traced in the sky. She was the hope of some child deprived of freedom, and the hope of the humanity. She was a mere feeble constrained and sporadic seventy or eighty heartbeats a minute, and staggering skeleton bones, and the golden sun-spilling miracle in Armin's eyes and dreams. She was home to him.

But what else could she offer him at that time?

"You are not doing this," Eren hissed, his voice hitching as he tried to splatter out the words. "What about the ocean? Have you forgotten about that?"

He clasped his hands, callused and worn, battered blood-stained fingertips, with hers. She felt cold. "Mikasa," he was pleading for her to hold on.

"Eren, I—"

"Please don't do this." He swallowed the lump forming in his thorax. "Please. Not now."

Mikasa held unto Eren's hand. It was the thing that depicted life the most, the pulsar veins throbbing incessantly until forever.

She tried to take in a deep breath. "Thank you, Eren. For everything." Mikasa croaked.

And just when their heartbeats, their breathing, their pulsating tendons and knotted heartstrings were constant and in sync, just when the roaring nebulas in Eren's teal eyes sparked with the life of the opalescent ones of Mikasa's, the rest was rust and stardust.


	15. Teenage Wasteland

Warning: Sexual situations, innuendos and some explicit themes. Don't look at me.

A/N: Do you realize how much I love using Lolita, Nabokov and Lana del Rey references?

* * *

><p>At thirteen, he never really understands how things go. He finds a lot of things confusing, and well, even Mikasa who happened to be easily understood (for him, that is, because Mikasa is apathetic to everyone except Eren) is also hard to understand.<p>

Blame it on puberty or hormones or whatever you like to call it.

"Hey, Mikasa, what's with all those whisperings you girls always do?"

And Mikasa will just blush as a deep red fresh tomato and storms out the room, leaving Eren much more confused than before.

* * *

><p>Fifteen is also weird. A lot of adjusting happening around, and transition and adaptations to a new environment, and well, you know what I mean.<p>

He's more conscious of how he looks, of his body physique, but still, as he comes to think of it, he does find it rather weird. Not to mention the adrenaline and so much hormones shooting through his bloody veins, to all parts and dips and curves of his body, and god knows what he should do with all of those.

He needs to calm himself.

* * *

><p>At sixteen, he mighta sorta kinda like Mikasa a little bit. Not that he will admit it, of course. But the fact that she makes him nervous whenever she talks to him (although they have been talking to each other ever since), or how he badly wants to punch Jean in the face whenever he makes a move on Mikasa make his insides all turned and tossed and twisted.<p>

"Why don't you just admit it already?" Armin sighs annoyingly. He dips his fries in ketchup and takes a bite.

It is quite weird for Eren to be asking him to hang out in a nearby McDonald's after class just to talk about this subject matter.

"Are you out of your mind? Hello, what are you, dummy?"

"What? Are you like, scared or something?" Armin scoffs as he notices how Eren shuffles in his seat uneasily. "Would you look at that? Fearless Eren Yeager, finally afraid of something."

"Shut up, Armin! You don't understand."

"Oh, really?" he raises an eyebrow as he nibbles on his fries; he amuses himself as he imitates James Dean or Bob Dylan's pose with a dangling cigarette or something.

"Really."

What Eren does not know though is that Armin knows more than enough. He knows both side.

* * *

><p>"Then how come you never gave Jean a chance?" he asks her the question bothering him from quite some time already as they watch a movie in their living room one Saturday night.<p>

Mikasa thinks for a while, and then supplies him a well-thought of answer. "I think it's unfair."

"Unfair? How unfair?"

"I don't really like him."

Eren smirks at the side with her remark. And she notices his arrogance brimming in the air, "Well, I mean, I do like him. He's nice and respectful and, well it's just that I can't say yes to him as easily as everyone thinks."

Eren purses his lips as he wonders. The TV screen flashes a scene set in daylight, providing the dark living room a sort of shade. "Do you like someone, perhaps?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you like someone?" he grits his teeth nervously as he repeats the question.

She does not answer quickly though. But when she answers, he does not really know what to feel.

* * *

><p>At eighteen, they somehow grow apart. Drifted like two mundane thoughts whispered to the opposite directions of the winds. He does not want to talk to her, and she as well. But the truth is, he just can't talk to her, and she as well. Sooner or later, they will have to talk; after all, they basically have just each other. They will settle their plans, and <em>voila<em>, they're both out of each other's hair like they always wanted.

"Pre-med, huh?"

She nods her head.

It is a warm late summer evening. Mikasa just finished packing up her things (she will leave for the coming weekend). They plan this thoroughly, that they'll do some talking and finally clear everything. Eren puts his hand roguishly inside his jean's pockets as they walk around the neighborhood.

"How about you?" she asks.

"Huh? Oh, me? I think I might have to pass."

Mikasa lifts her head to look at him. "Pass? What do you mean? You're enrolled already, right?"

"I think I could still have it withdraw or something. I'll think of it." Awkwardly, he shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe college is for some other time."

"How come you never told me?"

"I'm telling you now." He says in a matter of fact-ly tone.

She nods and they continue walking. They both remain silent until Eren decides to bring up a thought from his mind.

"You know, I'm planning to take up a B.A. I don't know, I'm not sure yet."

Mikasa looks at him. "Major in?"

"Philosophy."

She presses a thin smile on her lips. "You're going to be good at it. I just know it."

Eren tries his best to hide the smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but he just can't help it. For a long time, he lets himself smile at the presence of Mikasa.

"Hey, Mikasa?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna miss you."

* * *

><p>She calls him frequently; he would have called her but he might be disturbing her or something. Somehow, they're mutually stitching back their relationship, like a renewal of their friendship. While Armin keeps her company most of the time around the university (he's taking up Marine Biology and both of their programs are in the Science Department), Mikasa still finds a certain familiarity, a certain comfort that can only be sought in Eren.<p>

"How are things there, huh? Enjoying school?"

"Hmm. I guess so."

Then silence fills both ends of the line.

"Listen, I uh, I'm in the middle of cooking something, and uh…"

"Oh, yeah sure, sure. I'll call some other time."

Just when Mikasa is about to hang up, Eren cuts him. "Mikasa? You still there?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I miss you."

She smiles at what she hears. The thing is, she does not know how to contain the excitement brimming in her chest. "I miss you too, Eren."

They both hang up.

* * *

><p>Nineteen is way too different from eighteen, or from any other age. It is by far beyond his full contemplation. Despite that is just one year difference from eighteen, and two from seventeen, and three from sixteen, and so on and so forth, something tells his guts that being nineteen is a tad different from the rest. Guts talking.<p>

Mikasa and Armin have been in college for a year already, while he chose to spend one precious year searching for his essence or purpose in life and all those whatnots and philosophical bullshit (did I mention that he's planning on taking up Philosophy?). He is kinda like undergoing the unresolved phase; not quite sure of everything.

Well, everything except for one thing: he is in love with Mikasa.

And it took him nineteen awful weird years, tossed along with the misunderstandings, transitions, indifference and everything in between, just to realize that. He knows he loved her even before he realized it. Heck, he knows he loved her even before they met. It's the sort of thing that you just feel. Like soulmates or the probability of raining on a day set for picnic. Guts talking.

* * *

><p>She comes home one night unexpectedly.<p>

And Eren is not quite sure of how to handle unexpected things. All he knows is that their in-sync heartbeats pound against their chests a hundred each minute. He looks at her for a moment, and her dark ones look back at him. Their eyes talk; his asks for forgiveness, while hers takes him in wholly.

He crashes his lips against her own plump ones; she gasps in surprise at the force of the kiss. Her breath hitches; she feels her spine tingles as she feels his hands roam hungrily and with carnality around the nakedness of her body. He breaks the kiss, just so he can kiss more of her, imprint his sealed missed love all throughout the years: cheeks, jaw, neck, shoulders, clavicle.

It is an act of desperation when she pushes herself up against him, and he takes her in. "Eren," she says his name and feels his abdomen quiver, and he just cannot take the pain any longer.

She traces his bicep with her clumsy clammy hands; her face suddenly turns a deep beet red in embarrassment as she wonders when in the world did Eren's body become so toned.

He breathes heavily and tucks his face in the crest of the nape of her neck. Mikasa groans as she feels Eren slightly nibs on her sweaty skin.

"Ready?" he mumbles through her skin.

She gulps. Nervous digits entangle against his hair, and Eren knows what she means by that.

"It's okay. You don't, we uh, don't have to—"

"I'm ready."

He hovers on top of her and enters her. She bites her lower lip to restrain the excruciating pain tearing through her insides. He enters her slowly, until they finally found the rhythm, their hips rolling. And with each thrust he heaves unto her, a small droplet of tear attempts to cascade down Mikasa's face.

Eren cups her face and kisses her lips, hungrily and with so much vigor. And when he hits it, when he tries not to let out the satisfying scream, and she hits it as well, he stumbles upon a thought of the possibility that when he wakes up the next morning, she will be nowhere to be found.

He hopes that for that shared moment, a feeble fragment of time to expand into eternity.

He does not sleep at all.

* * *

><p>He is tired and exhausted but he is lost in the gazillion of universes his mind wandered through in the night that he fails to notice that the sun is already spilling its beams and the warmth of an early morning permeates through his room. He looks at Mikasa who is still lost in the deepness of her slumber. Her chest heaves evenly in each breath she takes.<p>

She inhales deeply and opens her eyes, her lashes entangle up against each other like damp fern and thimbleweeds after a rain. Her eyes scans the room; it takes a few minutes for her to register where she is until her eyes lay upon a familiar pair of green ones.

"Hi." Her voice is coarse, and a trace of being tired is still present.

"Hi. Sleep well?"

"Hmm," she smiles. She nuzzles herself nearer to Eren and he takes her in willingly into his arms.

Before he even knows it, Mikasa is back to sleep, her lulling breath synchronizes along with his. For a moment the two of them remain like that, with the hope of achieving their dreams, of him making up to all the lifetimes he made her cry silently, and with the hope of waking up to a thousand tomorrows and Mikasa still in his arms.

* * *

><p>AN: I changed the ratings into M, all thanks to this fic. So what do you guys think? :)


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